Record stores have always seemed crazy to me, but it doesn’t upset me. Music is none of my business.— Marge
Nelson: You made me bleed my own blood.
Nelson: I'll get you after school, man.
Skinner: Oh, no, no, no. He'll get you after school, son. How hurry up, it's time for class.
Nelson: I'll see you at the flagpole at 3:15.
Weasel 1: And you'd better be prompt.
Weasel 2: He has four other beatings scheduled this afternoon.
Marge: What on earth are you talking about, Homer?
Homer: The code of the schoolyard, Marge! The rules that teach a boy to be a man! Let's see: don't tattle, always make fun of those different from you, never say anything unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way you do.
Grampa: (typing) I am disgusted with the way old people are depicted on television. We are not all vibrant, fun-loving sex maniacs. Many of us are bitter, resentful individuals, who remember the good old days, when entertainment was bland and inoffensive.
Herman: The key to Springfield has always been Elm Street. The Greeks knew it. The Carthaginians knew it. Now you know it.
Grampa: You can push them out of a plane, you can march them off a cliff, you can send them off to die on some God-forsaken rock. But for some reason, you can't slap 'em.
Herman: You got the water balloons?
Bart: One hundred rounds, sir. Is it okay if they say Happy Birthday on the side?
Herman: Well, I'd rather they say "Death From Above," but I guess we're stuck.
Grampa: I thought I'd never hear the screams of pain or see the look of terror in a young man's eyes. Thank heaven for children.
Bart: Contrary to what you've just seen, war is neither glamorous nor fun. There are no winners, only losers. There are no good wars, with the following exceptions: the American Revolution, World War II, and the Star Wars Trilogy. If you'd like to learn more about war, there's lots of books in your local library, many of them with cool gory pictures. Well goodnight everybody. Peace, man.